“Is that a turkey?!”
Indeed it is, and whether it was pushed out of its natural habitat by flooding or came to enjoy the fine comestibles, I’m sort of happy to see her… it… whatever. It’s not one of those big butterballs with the gonorrhea-snood that dive bombs your head when you’re going in the bushes at a campground. It’s more petite and more graceful and so it must be a girl.
We first spotted it yesterday from the picnic bench while pre-gaming. Laura said it walked daintily down the stairs to the backyard, taking each step like a little person.
“That’s a damn turkey!” said one of the neighbors this morning. “That ain’t no city turkey, either. That ain’t no farm turkey. That’s a wild turkey!”
Apparently, all kinds of wildlife has appeared in the ’hood, from a deer, to raccoons large enough to stand on their hind legs and peer into apartments, to a fox, which a house cat challenged in the cul-de-sac, causing traffic to stop and watch on Bluemound. I guess we should call the Human Society (it is right across the street, after all). Gobble-gobble.